


Parkner Halloweek Day Three

by Malmignatte



Category: Champions (Comics), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Haunted Houses, M/M, Parkner Halloweek, Spideystruck, The spideystruck takes a backseat to Parkner i'm SORRY but it's still there, like very very mild, mild descriptions of gore, parkner, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 05:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malmignatte/pseuds/Malmignatte
Summary: "Have you always been able to do that?" and "Haunted House", borrowed from day one.- Actually titled 'Black Gasoline'





	Parkner Halloweek Day Three

The area around them is awash with the colours of fall; yellows, oranges, reds and blacks. It’s amazing. There are people of all ages running around in costumes -- some tired parents aren’t, but that’s okay. Their children are living their absolute best lives in the pumpkin patch, bobbing for apples, or going into the haunted house that’s designed for kids. 

Harley, however, is fixated with the one that’s marked ‘sixteen and over’, and tugs at Peter’s hand. Peter, who only rolls his eyes and laughs. 

“Oh, c’mon, really?” 

“Pete, I’m done being scared by actual monsters, let’s see if any of those suckers can get me, yeah?” he pleads, tugging on his boyfriend’s hand and fixing him with a pout, which looks a little ridiculous. 

They’re both costumed, Peter with a popped collar of a red vest and a signature red cap on, a Pikachu plushie velcroed to his shoulder, Harley looking far more casual in a back jacket, but his hair has an  _ insurmountable  _ load of gel in it, and he has an Eevee clipped to his khakis. They’ve gotten a whole lot of attention from kids and teens, but the parents don’t really seem to understand exactly who they’re supposed to be. It doesn’t matter, because  _ frankly,  _ it’s an awesome couples costume. The Red and Blue joke is lost on everyone but the two of them. 

And Tony -- who had taken one look at them and burst out into laughter before shooing them on. 

“I wanna go bobbing for apples,” Peter pouts, and Harley gives him a flat look, because there is no way that he suffered through the fumes of hairspray, gel, and a hair straightener to get his hair wet. Never gonna happen. 

“How ‘bout you go do that, and I’ll get in line. But if I get to the front, and you ain’t there, I’m going in alone and you’ll have to find me along the way, deal?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest and tilting his chin up challengingly. 

Peter bounces on his toes, smacks a kiss to Harley’s lips -- Harley manages to quickly lift the brim of his cap up so that his hair isn’t  _ ruined  _ \-- and nods enthusiastically. “Deal! I’m not really into the whole spooky stuff,  _ as a man of science, _ ” he proclaims, sticking out his tongue. 

“As a  _ man of science  _ myself, dork, I’m totally never gonna be afraid of actors in a mask. Or most other things in masks. I’m certainly not afraid of spiders in masks,” he raises his brows and grins a little when Peter flushes a pretty shade of red .”Now, go! The line’s totally already too long. I’m gonna be bored, so I’m gonna get ahead of you in the game,” Harley wiggles his phone at Peter, and slaps him on the ass as he scurries off to the apple bobbing behind them. 

Harley grins and pays for a ticket, getting in line and looking down at his screen, fingers tapping away, feet shuffling forward. As he predicted, it’s a slow wait -- he was kind of hoping that Peter would hurry up and finish getting a damn apple to fit in his mouth along with the frog to come and join him, because they’re only letting in groups of certain numbers and he already feels grim about their luck. 

Finally, he gets to the front of the line and looks around for Peter, before huffing. Well, he’d  _ warned him,  _ hadn’t he?

“I’m just a single. I’ll join up with a group,” he offers, smiling politely. As expected, he’s slotted in with a family of three and one other single, and he tucks his phone away into his pocket, sighing a little. He doesn’t even pay attention to the people in front of him; he’ll deal with them screaming enough as is, they don’t deserve more of his attention. At least it’s an exhibit for adults -- or people near enough. Harley and Peter are both over eighteen, and he more than passes the eyeball test of the attendant; he thinks that Peter may  _ actually  _ be carded, though. 

Harley is almost kind of  _ glad  _ that Peter isn’t there, because he knows that he would have been teased mercilessly for jumping at the very first actor who emerges from some creepily hung plastic covered in blood. A little sniff, and he thinks that it may  _ actually be  _ pig’s blood -- which, ew. Fucking disgusting. At least it’s bound to be a decent haunted house if they’re willing to do that, but he’s fairly sure that they should have made him sign some sort of waiver. Or maybe at least mention that it isn’t real blood, if that’s the case. 

Man, if Tony were here? He would probably have threatened to sue. Guy’s surprisingly squeamish. 

He wanders through the house and gets distracted momentarily by some of the detailing, feeling a little knot form in the pit of his stomach. Okay. He’s definitely glad that his boyfriend is absent. Harley shouldn’t be freaking out when he just found diffusers hidden behind a ‘coffin’. This is all just smoke and mirrors. The teen’s fingers touch the blood and he sniffs it closer to his nose. 

Corn syrup. 

Oh, man. He would  _ never  _ have lived this down if Peter was there; his enhanced smell would probably be able to pluck out the scent of the sugar above the scent of whatever they’d put into the air artificially. 

Okay. Breathing time. 

And, of course, the group has left him, moved on, and now he’s entirely alone. Knowing that all of this is fake, though? That’s not really so bad. He even manages not to flinch at the next actor who jumps out at him, giving them a two fingered salute instead. 

It’s only when he enters into a large room, that he’s certain has to be an architectural feat -- possibly narrower at the ceiling to make it look taller? That he feels true unease. There aren’t places for anyone to spring out at him, though, so he presses forward while the floorboards creak with manufactured eeriness. 

But then he hears something and, look, Harley  _ loves  _ horror movies, he watches them for fun. He knows the sound of tinny speakers hidden somewhere, and what he hears is enough for him to frantically check to see whether he wore his watch. Nope. 

He spins slowly, hands balling into fists, but there isn’t really anything that can prepare him for being tackled from the side. At first, all he can hope for is that it’s Peter, catching up to him, but, rolling onto his back, Harley swallows thickly at the sight of something that is straight out of nightmares, and maybe  _ that’s  _ where the gored smell was coming from, on top of the musty humidifiers? Because this thing looks like an eight foot tall zombie with the  _ breath  _ to back it up. 

Struggling back, Harley worms his way out and pushes to his feet, getting momentum behind him and bursting through some of the plastic, tearing it down as he goes in an attempt to stop the monster. 

From the corner of his eye, a familiar flash of red and blue catches his mind and he lets out a long sigh of relief. Peter always had the best timing. 

“Heads up, blondie!” but Harley can barely hear his boyfriend over the panting of the monster. He watches as Peter flips into the air, places a hand on the creature's shoulder, and then… just only sticks to the wall? Peter had found the time to change? And that's all he wants to do?

“What the hell?” Harley demands, scrambling further backwards, "that was barely a love tap, darlin'!"

“Give it a second!” 

He stares in horror and awe as electricity crackles around the creature, lighting him up and then putting him down into a collapsed pile of disgustingly pork-smelling corpse. 

“Have you always been able to do that?” Harley gasps in shock, watching as Peter backflips off the ceiling, falling into a crouch and then straightening up, slipping shooters out of his pockets and sliding them onto his wrists. 

Wait -- pockets?

“Long as I’ve been able to do other things,” he answers a little aloofly, and when he shoots the webbing, it’s not with his palm to the ceiling; his palm is facing downward. This is probably more scary than the rotting zombie he’d just seen be put down by…

“Peter, what?”

Harley steps closer, and squints, and -- oh. The person in the Spider-Man costume has gone ramrod straight. He should have  _ noticed  _ it. The costume is red and blue, an older one, wrinkled because it’s oversized, and this  _ stranger  _ is taller than Peter. 

In the distance, he can hear voices talking. 

“I can’t  _ believe  _ you got your boyfriend to do a couples costume with you! That’s so cool. I tried to convince my boyfriend to dress up as a jar of marinara sauce, but he absolutely refused, he wanted to come as Spider-Man,” comes a laughing voice. 

“I mean. I totally thought you were Cousin Itt at first--” and  _ that’s  _ Peter’s voice. Harley is still staring at the stranger, who’s staring right back. 

“Peter!” Harley snaps, and his boyfriend comes around the corner in a jog, his eyes wide. 

Meanwhile, the guy dressed as --  _ spaghetti and meatballs???  _ Follows and grins brightly. “Hey -- oh,  _ whoa,  _ that’s so cool! Miles, that webbing looks like Spidey’s. You should take a photo next to it in costume. Hold on, lemme just--” he stars to pat down his oversized suit with one hand, because the other is holding an apple and a grab bag. 

“Nova,” it’s the stranger, but Peter seems to have caught on now, approaching the body and immediately cringing when it lets out a horrific gurgle.

“Yeah, gimme a sec, it’s hard to find anything under all these noodles.” 

“Peter,” Harley jerks his chin toward the Halloween-costumed Spidey.

He puts his hands up, takes a step back, “Parker,” the impersonator mutters weakly, before he’s trying again; “ _ Nova! _ ”

Spaghetti and meatballs looks up with an irate huff, “what’s up?” he asks finally, hand shoved somewhere under his costume, still apparently searching for his phone. 

The stranger sags in an exasperated manner, and Nova -- spaghetti and meatballs is a  _ much  _ better name -- looks between all of them in confusion. 

The monster groans and pushes up against the webbing, Finally,  _ finally,  _ the stranger seems to be catching on, but Peter is advancing on Spidey-costume, because  _ holy shit, hadn’t that kid just said his last name?  _ Who was it? Flash with some suped-up tech from his dad? No, no way. Flash was  _ shorter than Peter.  _

“This is like, super, super awkward,” the stranger says, his hands still in the air, “and I can’t really explain,” he drops a hand, only to shoot webbing at the creature, and that’s enough for Peter to snap out his own bands and strap them around his wrists with a quick snap, catching them together. “That’s kinda new,” he remarks dryly, placing his hands back up. 

“Hey, Webs?” If Harley wasn’t so worried -- and without his armor -- he would have laughed when both heads turned, “you want a lift?” 

“No, I’m just holding my hands up because I forgot to do my daily stretches.” 

Spaghetti and meatballs looks a little sheepish, but his head turns between the two of them for a moment, before he tosses the bag of candy he has into the air and sticks his hand inside of it. Candy clatters to the ground, but he pulls out a helmet and shoves his ridiculous headpiece back with his other hand. Peter’s now whirling on him, but the Spider-costumed guy takes that as an opportunity to web his ankle. 

“I am so sorry, but we really gotta blast.”

Whatever a helmet is supposed to do, Harley doesn’t know how anyone in that costume can be intimidating but -- oh. As soon as it slides over his head, the costume seemingly vanishes in a swirl of black blue and gold, the formerly ridiculous looking teen floating onto the tips of his toes while surrounded by a blue flame. 

“Bye, Peter! Sorry about the clean up!” the costumed figure calls, and then there’s an ungodly sonic boom, and the trick roof of the house is now a skylight to the roof, the impostor held by his wrists as they vanish.

Peter’s hat and Harley’s glasses are knocked off their heads, and Peter does his best to shoot webs in the air, but the blue glow is completely gone, and they fall to nothing. 

“What. The fuck.” Harley asks, moving to help his boyfriend up off the ground, “he knew your name. And that guy just flew faster than I ever clocked. Tony too. What the fuck.” 

“What the fuck, indeed,” Peter mutters in return, staring up at the ruined roof, “guess it’s time to call Damage Control.” 

  
  


Meanwhile, somewhere on a rooftop, after a quick stop at a hotdog cart, Miles Morales has his costume mask off and leans his elbow onto his knees. “Another young Peter Parker?” he mutters, drumming his fingers over his cheeks. 

Sam blinks slowly, “Wait. Like, the ex-billionaire CEO?  _ He’s  _ Spidey? I thought Spidey was his bodyguard!” 

The older of the two gives a full-body cringe; “you  _ cannot  _ tell anyone, okay? Sam. Seriously. Back home, that’s his secret. I only know ‘cause in  _ my  _ home he’s, y’know. Dead.”

The Nova hums, then frowns, “wait, this isn’t the young one with a crush on me, is it? That can’t be right. That’d make that angry southern-looking type  _ me _ ?”

Miles tilts his head back, “Sam, you’re South-Western,” he reminds him dryly. 

“Oh, yeah. But still--” 

“ _ No,  _ not this one. I’ve never been to this universe before...”

“Huh, weird.”

“Happy Halloween, Buckethead.” 

“Whatever, Webs.” 

They still cheers hotdogs.

**Author's Note:**

> wellp i'm not sure how either side of shipping is going to see it but this is my work and I'm sticking to it. 
> 
> For people who would like visuals, [Miles' halloween costume is his borrowed costume](https://i.imgur.com/tSehdmg.png)  
Sam's is [ his ridiculous spaghetti and meatballs](https://i.imgur.com/T00VnW5.png)  



End file.
